By Adut Mayom Apioth
–
The fog of war clouding over,
The blood that paints our days,
Leaving us hollow inside souls,
She was taken from us,
At about four hours after birth,
Others at the moment the umbilical is detached,
Making mothers monsters to doctors,
“Why didn’t you save him?”
–
At the fogged ground we walked,
Feeling cold from the winds of rage,
Needing peace to make us warm,
Soaking all over,
By the blood of our brothers,
For this is nothing but war,
Remind us who we are God,
Then maybe peace shall embrace us.
–
Beside the bushes i hide,
Hiding from my brother,
A brother who has gone vogue,
But he finds me,by the sound,
The sound of rustling leaves,
Grabbing feeble me to the ground,
“Who are your ancestors?” He utters,
“But we…are still one as a nation”.
–
And as the last words came out,
I recalled memories,bitter-sweet,
A dream i could have shared,
That song i could have sang,
And the little baby that was loosing,
A mother,now falling to the ground,
With a lullaby on her bleeding lips,
“No more guns…….”